Her Cowboy's Triplets. Sasha SummersЧитать онлайн книгу.
parents and a loving woman at his side.
He knew who he wanted that woman to be. But, even out here, he had no idea how to make that work.
She was beautiful. But the world knew that. Head cheerleader, prom queen and Miss Fort Kyle Cattle Queen four years in a row. The girls liked her. And the boys lined up to date her. He’d grown up seeing her for who she was—an awkward lonely girl who’d just wanted to be one of the crowd. Not looked up to or fawned over, but accepted.
His mission was to be that person for her. It hadn’t happened overnight. Hell, it probably wouldn’t have happened at all if her father hadn’t made him off-limits. Nothing spurs a teenage girl into action like her father’s disapproval. Surprisingly, their friendship had become important to both of them. But what had started out as friendship turned into something more for him, something he’d never been able to shake, something India never knew about.
When she’d headed to Texas Women’s University in Dallas, he’d headed for University of Texas in Austin. The distance had changed things.
College, law school, Barbara, his career and the girls. Life had kept him too busy to think much beyond what was right in front of him. When he’d decided to bring the girls here, he’d made the choice to make time for the things that mattered. Like his girls. His parents.
And now, maybe, India.
He and Bear headed back to the ranch and straight for the barn. He stored his saddle and bridle, brushed Bear’s coat and made sure to clean out his hooves before turning the horse into the large pasture behind the barn.
“How’s it look?” His father joined him at the fence. “They’re saying we might get a shower or two end of the week. That’d help.”
Brody nodded, inspecting the sky. “Depends. We need a good soaking, not a flash flood.”
“I’ll take what I get, son.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Water’s water.”
Which was true, but a hard, fast rain eroded just as much as drought. “The well looks good. If the tank dries out, we’ll fill the troughs. We’ll be fine. Like always.”
His father nodded. “Chance of heading into town? Your mother got a package needs to be picked up. Maybe stop in, check on Willie, see how he’s running the store.” His father leaned against the fence, doing his best to act casual.
“Can do,” he agreed. On top of the ranch, the Wallaces owned the local grocery store and feed store. Both were successful, thriving businesses his father oversaw personally. But now, with his health, it was too much. His father had a hard time asking for help—that was one of the reasons he’d come home. If his father wanted something done, and he often had a roundabout way of asking, Brody would do it.
“Give Mom a hand with the girls?”
The older man nodded. “Can do. Maybe check in at the bakery, see if they’ve got some of that peach cobbler for dessert. Don’t tell your mother, though.”
Brody chuckled. “Can do.” His mother wasn’t much of a baker, but neither of them would ever say as much.
He walked his father back to the house, kissed the girls on the head and headed into town with a grocery list from his mother—and Amberleigh. By the time they’d reached Wallace Family Grocery, Amberleigh had tugged off her boots and her socks. But she was happy, her little feet bouncing along with the George Strait songs coming through his radio.
“Shopping for Nana?” Amberleigh asked when they’d parked in front of the grocery store.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, carrying her inside. “Wanna ride?”
She nodded, sliding her legs through the grocery cart opening. “Go fast, Daddy.”
He grinned, pushing the cart down the aisle at a slow jog. Amberleigh squealed with glee, her little eyes shut and her head tilted back. Until they rounded a corner and came to a screeching halt a few feet from an old woman pushing her cart.
The old woman scowled and kept on going, moving at a snail’s pace.
“That was some look,” he said to Amberleigh. “Think we’re in trouble?”
Amberleigh nodded. “Scary fairy.”
Brody burst out laughing at the comparison of the old lady and the mean fairy in their coloring books. “Pretty close, Amberleigh. Pretty close.”
He stopped in the office, talked to Willie and let Amberleigh ride on the coin-operated horse by the ice-cream section.
“Like Bear, Daddy.” His daughter smiled. “Giddy-up, horsey.”
“Don’t let him get away from you.” He winked at her.
Her hold tightened on her reins. “Whoa.”
“Good job.” He nodded. His father had purchased ponies for the girls, but only Amberleigh had been interested. Marilyn had refused. Suellen was more interested in petting it and sneaking the pony carrots and apples. He knew they were fraternal triplets, but he’d never expected the girls to be so different.
Not that he’d have it any other way.
“All done.” She reached for him, laughing when he swung her around and deposited her back into the cart.
“Time to get some shopping done.” He set off again.
He turned shopping into a game, sneaking around corners and dodging all the other carts. All it took was his daughter’s laugh to keep him going. He figured her sisters talked so much Amberleigh didn’t feel the need to join in. Hearing her talk was a rare treat.
They loaded the groceries into the truck. But the sight of India disappearing inside Antiques and Treasures made him pause.
* * *
INDIA HIT ENTER on the computer keyboard. Nothing. The prompt popped up again, so she reentered the access code—rechecking each keystroke before moving on. If it took the entire hour she had before Cal got out of school, so be it. She could do this. She would do it. She hit Enter again.
“Come on,” she said, frowning at the computer screen. “Please.”
“Pretty sure manners won’t make much of a difference,” Brody said from the doorway, startling her so that she knocked her bottle of water from the desk and into her lap. “Damn, India, I’m so sorry.” He was across the room in an instant, offering his handkerchief.
“It was an accident,” she said, pushing out of her chair. “There wasn’t much left anyway. It was...refreshing. And cold.”
He shook his head, eyeing her pants.
“It’s okay,” she assured him, resting her hand on his arm. “It’s water. Not a national security crisis. Or a stupid software problem.”
His hand covered hers. “I might be able to help with the computer. Make up for dousing you with cold water?”
His hand was warm. His arm was warm. Even the look in his tawny gaze was warm. And it washed over her, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. A peculiar tightening settled deep in her stomach.
“Will it get me out of the doghouse?” he asked.
She swallowed. “If you’re offering to help me not throw this piece of junk into the trash, I’m not going to complain about getting a little water on my pants.” She glanced down at her pants. “Okay, more than a little water.”
Brody chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
India wasn’t sure what was happening, but it was good. All the warmth and the touching and the smiling... She should let go of him.
“Let me see what I can do,” he offered, moving toward the computer—and taking his warmth with him.
This was weird. Brody was, had been, her friend. She’d never stared at his broad shoulders